Betalliac
by Silentspider
Summary: We all have emotions. We all have ways to describe them. What I have here is how each emotion really is. What is an emotion, is something none of us really know for sure, but what it could mean is just as awful as how it feels.


A cold windy night blew through the town as it did every other night. To the townspeople, it was a way of life.  
By spending years in the same house, they grown a custom to the enviroment. A man awakened from his slumber, and found himself out of bed, and standing in the corridor.  
It was the dead of night, and the reason why he was up,  
was unknown even to him. A noise from the first floor of his house alerted him. He crepted back into his room, and went for his magnum, which was hidden above his bed.  
He ventured downstairs to inspect the source of the noise.  
He searched and looked in all the rooms, but couldn't find a thing. Then he heard it again. A clashing came from his kitchen. The sound of pots and pans bashing into eachother gave him a sense of someone within his house. However, he did not call the police, nor did he think twice about it. He pushed the kitchen door, and stepped through. Through the moonlight gleaming through the window, he could see the image of a man standing before him with his back turned.  
"You there!" The owner of the house said as he drew his gun forth.  
The burgler turned around, revealing his hideous face.  
Blood surrounded his mouth, and stained his teeth crimson. The owner stepped closer, and saw the body of a women lying on the floor. He could tell who it was,  
front or back it did not matter to him. As he looked back and forth, from his dead wife who lay before him,  
to the insane man that stood against him.  
"What the fuck...." He trailed off into a sad misery.  
His wife killed at a price he didn't like one bit.  
"I have come all this way, do you belive me now?" The insane man began.  
"Fuck off!" The owner was in a fit of rage.  
In the bottom of his emotions stood nothing, only that of how he felt about this abomination. He pulled the trigger sending a bullet into the man's chest. He didn't flinch, nor did he say a thing. Another round proved the same. Before he knew it, the clip was empty. The insane man snatched the gun right out of his hands.  
A smirk along with a sinister laugh followed.  
"You hatter, what are you trying to prove?" He said.  
"You stand here, with blood on you, after you killed my wife, and call me a hatter!"  
A pounding at the front door shocked both men. Both looked at it, not knowing who was on the otherside.  
The pounding continued, but it never stopped.  
"The door...." they both said.  
The letter slot began to swift gently back and forth. Niether of them knew what it was about. While watching the slot swing, a white paper began to erect through. It fell onto the floor, and layed there beckoning for one of them to pick it up. The sound of foot steps scurrying away questioned who it was that dropped it off. The owner walked up, and opened it. In big bold black letters it read:  
Disease upon feasting against, now you lose.  
It made no sense to the owner.  
"My wife is dead.....why did you kill her?"  
There was no answer. Instead, the insane man pulled out a knife. The moonligh shinned against the blade. The owner was stunned, without thoughts of what to do. The insane man came charging towards him. Once they became face-to-face, he put the tip of the blade against his throat, and forced it into his neck.  
Blood was rushing through his body, he could feel it running out of the wound. He pulled the knife out, but only poured out blood. He fell onto the floor, and passed away into a dream world.  
Waking up he found himself in a small room. The walls were painted black all over, with showing no way out. With every breath he took, the room got smaller and smaller. It began to push against him and squeeze his body. The pressure became so great, the room burst into flames, along with him. "Do you want to go back?"  
He heard a voice around him. It eachoed through his ear,  
engulfing his mind with possible side-effects which would be terrible.  
"Another chance you mean? I find it a useless waste of time."  
Everything went black.  
He then found himself in a room with a child with playing with building blocks. A small boy who looked to be about five years of age. It was only them two in the room. Them and the blocks. The small child held one of them towards the man. He bent down, curious at what the child wanted him to do. He took it from the child's hand, and held it gently in his palm. As it rested it began to feel cool, then started to shrink. It melted into a liquid in a matter of seconds into his hand. A silver liquid rest in the palm, yet it wasn't wet, nor cold. He was pleasent. The child giggled at the man's reaction.  
"Too bad you don't have a heart," the child spoke.  
Everything went black.  
He found himself, standing back in his kitchen. His wife lay dead on the floor. Blood surrounded his mouth, and his body. A knife rested in his hand. Guessing it was the weapon, he dropped it in fear. "You there!" A man from nearby said.  
He looked and saw a man holding a handgun within his hand. It was himself.  
"You cockfucking bastard," he said as he held the gun up to the real owner's head.  
"No, wait don't shoot!" But it was too late. The man pulled the trigger, and shot a bullet into his skull. His head exploded with blood onto the room.  
"You fucker, fucking....fucking hell. Get the fuck out."  
He feld his mind swim in a puddle of misery. Swirling,  
he couldn't take it. He got dizzy from the experience, and tumble into the flaws of his heart. By seeing for the first time, he pityed himself for what he saw. There was love and care, but no sense of anything else.  
"Shhhh....shhhhh....I'll know this one." He muttered to himself.  
Remembering how he got there, who he was, what he was,  
is a challenge for him and others as he soon realized.  
It wasn't him that escaped his own self, but his mind that escaped the very idea of captivity. A disgusting display he found it to be, and yet he went along with it for years.  
"I'm not playing the game anymore, I'm going by my own fucking rules."  
But what was his rules, are exactly what he was going by before.  
"I'm not playing the game anymore, I'll go by the rules that have been given to me."  
He doesn't realize that those are the same as before.  
The rules don't change. He is still the same person.  
"I'll talk different, act different, nobody will know who I am."  
But that is a lie, and doing something like that would show people the flase made up side of him. Not showing who he is, people will never know.  
"I'll disguise my being...."  
Everything went black.  
He found himself in his room. A slight adjustment of pressure on his bed alerted him to another person.  
He looked next to him, and saw his wife, sleeping gracefully beside him. 


End file.
